روايات بقلم Rahma

"What was said in the message?" Sam questioned in a weak voice. I looked at my phone and murmured, "It said I'm in danger." Sam raised his voice more. Evelyn, please let Nathaniel know. This is becoming too strange. "Am I able to trust him?" I said, my thoughts racing. "Do you believe he is involved?" Sam sounded astounded. "I'm not sure what to think," I muttered to myself. "Don't trust him, the notes keep saying. But what if they're correct? Sam took a little break. However, what if they're attempting to deceive you? You've got no idea who's behind this. Feeling disoriented, I responded, "That's the problem." "I'm not sure who to trust these days." Nathaniel and I met again the next day. My thoughts was racing, but I tried to seem normal. The letters and the messages were stacking up in my mind. With a critical gaze, Nathaniel remarked, "You seem distracted again." "I'm alright," I pretended to be cheerful. He didn't seem to be persuaded. "Are you certain? You have been b

"Who’s at the door?" Sam questioned over the phone, her voice trembling. I said in a whisper, my fingers lingering over the doorknob, "I don't know." Evelyn, if you're afraid, don't open it. It may just be a delivery." I inhaled deeply before carefully opening the door. Nobody was present. Slept on the floor, just another envelope. When I took it up, my heart raced. I said, looking at the envelope in my hands, "It's another letter." "What does it say?" inquired Sam. With shaking hands, I opened it swiftly. Like the previous letter, this one was brief: "He's hiding something." My stomach dropped. "Sam, I'm not sure what's going on," I responded, attempting to maintain composure. "Someone’s playing games with me." "Who could be doing this?" Sam seems just as perplexed as I was. "I'm not sure. Jack may be the one. However... I'm not sure." I took a seat on the sofa with the letter still in my grasp. Sam emphasized, "You have to tell Nathaniel about this." "I can't," I blurted

"What’s wrong?" Sam jolted me out of my reverie with his voice. "Nothing," I pretended while glancing at my phone. "Evelyn, I am aware when something is causing you distress," she remarked, folding her arms. "You’ve been staring at your phone all day." Sensing the weight of the message, I sighed. "Jack messaged me." Sam's gaze expanded. "Jack? What was his desire?" "He claimed to be aware of Nathaniel and myself. that he is all-knowing." Sam scowled and leaned forward. How was he able to know? You haven’t told anyone, right?" "No, of course not," I curtly said. "But he knows, in some way. I'm afraid, too." "What did he say exactly?" With concern in her voice, Sam pressed. I gave her my phone so she could see the message. After a minute, she glanced up at me from her spot on the screen. Softly, "This is bad, Evelyn," she whispered. "What are you going to do?" "I'm not sure," I said. "If Jack really knows, he could ruin everything." Sam took a seat next me, her expression so

“Is everything okay?” Nathaniel asked, his voice soft but filled with concern. I couldn’t stop staring at my phone. The name flashing on the screen made my stomach churn. Jack. What did he want now? “I… it’s nothing,” I mumbled, turning the phone off quickly. My heart was racing, but I tried to hide it. “Doesn’t look like nothing,” Nathaniel pressed, stepping closer. His blue eyes searched mine, as if he could see the panic I was trying to bury. “It’s just… someone I used to know,” I lied, hoping he wouldn’t push further. Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he stepped back and ran a hand through his dark hair. “You’ve got one week to decide about my offer, Evelyn. Take your time.” “One week,” I repeated quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. My mind was spinning, but I nodded, knowing I had to think fast. “Good. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out,” he said, flashing a small smile before turning away, walking back to the crowd in t

"Are you sure I'd sell myself for money?" I shot back, and my voice was stern and angry. He crossed his arms and leaned against his sleek black car. He looked startled, but his blue eyes had a hint of anger in them. “You’re not trying to sell yourself. It’s a business arrangement.” "Agreement for business?" I repeated, feeling shocked and confused. “You mean pretending to be your girlfriend?” "Yes," he said in a steady voice. “For one year. You get financial security, and I get to keep my picture intact.” My heart was beating fast as I crossed my arms tightly. Behind us, the crowded hall buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses. “You think I’m just some gold-digger who would jump at the chance?” “No,” he said, moving closer, his gaze intense. “I think you’re an artist who deserves more than this.” He pointed toward the gallery. His words sent a mix of feelings swirling inside me. Was he really giving me a way out? But I quickly pushed that thought away. “And what do